


Elysium

by eurekaa



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Shinjiro/Female Protagonist, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, fuck you atlus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 07:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14351079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurekaa/pseuds/eurekaa
Summary: In April 2010, Yuki Makoto moves to Iwatodai for his senior year. He stumbles upon a mystery surrounding his long-lost twin sister, a death cult, a corporate conspiracy, and a forgotten entity that threatens humanity. Hopefully he'll be able to juggle all of this with his extracurricular activities.





	1. Brand New Days

**Author's Note:**

> another cross-post from my ffn, this is a shot at how the answer would go if atlus didn't fuck over the female protagonist. many creative liberties are being taken. sorry in advance.

The first thing he noticed was the sound of a piano.

The notes were stilted—pieces were missing.

The second thing he noticed was the comfortable confines of his seat. He cracked an eye open, spying dark leather compress under his weight. It was large, enough that he felt like a child again, his shoes barely scraping the floor. The armrests were cool to the touch, soothing against his dry skin.

He lifted his head, and the dimensions of the room slowly melded into being.

It was long and narrow, like some sort of hall. To his right, floor-to-ceiling windows let the light from the full moon cast wild shapes on the floor, revealing a somber, floral patterned carpet. The night sky was a deep emerald.

His eyes strained to locate where the sound of the piano was coming from—behind him?

Rising slowly, he took careful, quiet steps around the lounger, eyes drawn to the immense mass across from him.

A large, grand piano was seated on the other end of the narrow room, light from the moon making the surface glisten. On the piano bench, a girl sat—short, brunette hair hung around her neck and thin shoulders; the hue reminded him of something dead. She was dressed for a funeral, clothed from her neck to her ankles in a heavy black dress.

Her head lifted. “Hey.” The voice was distantly familiar, old memories and sensations bubbling to the surface—autumn leaves crunching underfoot, hot food and a nightlight shaped like a bee. He tried to step closer, but his feet stuck to the floor.

She continued to play, feather-light strokes on the keys, fingers swift and delicate, like little hummingbirds.

“I’m sorry for not remembering sooner.” She began, and he watched her shoulders quake. “Even if I did, though, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.”

“I know.” He said, so quietly that he’d hardly heard himself. “I know _you_.” She nodded.

“And I know you, too.” There was a smile in her tone. “You’ve been made to suffer a lot these past eleven years, haven’t you?”

 _What?_ His tongue felt thick and oily in his mouth.

“I couldn’t do anything back then to stop it, but now…” She abruptly stopped playing, the notes fading, and the edges of the room began to blur. “Now I have the power to fix things.”

She hauled herself up, arms shaking as if it were a herculean effort, her palms pressed flat on the surface of the piano.

His mouth opened, but he could only exhale.

Her profile was lit up by the moon, skin pale, a flash of silvery pins in her hair. “Go to Iwatodai. Look for me. There, you can find your answer.” She lifted a clenched fist, gaze fixated on the whites of her knuckles. Her grip loosened, revealing a golden butterfly; glowing wings fluttered once before it was gone, the image burned into the backs of his eyelids.

The walls were beginning to blend together, twisting and heaving like stars streaking across the sky. Nausea knotted his stomach.

“I’ll give you my power. You’ll need it—it’ll protect you.”

Finally, he managed to croak out a noise. “Where were you? Where did you go—”

“I’m sorry, we’re out of time.” She clasped her hands behind her, stepping away from what used to be the bench. At this point, everything besides her had spun together into a sickly mixture of green and yellow and red. Vertigo was warping his senses. “From now on, you’re going to face even more hardship, but I know you’ll be able to pull through. Take this opportunity—live these brand new days. And…take care of them. I leave them in your hands.”

There was a pull at the back of his head that told him _no, not yet, there’s still so much_ —so much what? Sweat pooled between his shoulder blades despite the chill. “Wait!”

She turned fully to him, and he jerked back, startled by her scrutinizing red eyes—slitted and bright like a snake, like a demon. But he knew this face. “I’m counting on you. Don’t let me down.”

The color vanished suddenly, leaving him tumbling into the black.

* * *

Iwatodai was a sea of gray, rising and falling, crashing against the blue of the actual ocean.

The skyline was disturbingly unfamiliar. Yuki Makoto jacked up the volume on his MP3 and let his mind wander.

_“The next stop is Port Island. Port Island. This is the final stop. Please prepare to disembark.”_

The monorail grinded to a halt as he blinked afterimages of butterflies out of his eyes.

He shambled out along with the other passengers, reaching into his pocket for the map of Iwatodai he’d received in the mail. He could see the school from here, cherry blossoms dancing in the gale like a scene from a movie. The sun was bright and high in the sky, and the air was warm and smelled like salt. He sneezed.

He eventually found his bearings, following the directions on his map to the Gekkoukan Boys’ Dorm. The dorm manager received him, and not before long, he had his own room. The manager said his luggage would arrive tomorrow, and with that left him alone.

The room was small, and dark, with heavy wooden furniture—a bed, a desk, a chair—but he was alone, and alone was nice. He could adapt.

Makoto placed his bag on the desk and sat down, the chair creaking under his weight. He sorted through what all he’d brought with him; toiletries, electronics, spare clothes…

And a few snacks, of course.

After munching through his third package of rice crackers, he decided to explore the man-made island a little more. After all, it was still relatively early in the day.

His eyes stung as he stepped outside—he shielded his face with a hand and squinted until they could adjust. The sun was beginning its descent, shadows elongating and heat shimmering over the cement. He shrugged off his windbreaker and tied it around his waist as he began walking, still taken aback by the sheer scale of the school grounds.

He’d read it was a prestigious academy with excellent sports, liberal, and arts programs. The facilities were cutting-edge, and everything looked and smelled new.

There was no prerequisite for local students, but those from out of town needed to apply for the scholarship program, which required near-flawless grades. Hours of cram school and late-night studying whirred behind his eyes. Makoto suddenly felt spectacularly tired.

All of that effort, and he was finally here. Finally, he could start looking for answers.

There was a tingling on the back of his neck. He turned, and was abruptly face-to-face with someone.

She seemed to be a foreigner, judging from the blue eyes and white-blonde hair. She was dressed in the Gekkoukan uniform.

She blinked. “Ah, I apologize for staring. You are…a student?”

He nodded.

“I do not recognize you.”

“I’m a transfer student,” he said, shrugging.

Her expression was suspicious. “I comprehend. Welcome to Iwatodai.” She bowed rigidly, and he followed suit. “Have a nice day.” With that, she ran her hands (was she wearing gloves?) down her skirt to smooth out imaginary wrinkles, turned, and left.

Makoto returned to the dorm.


	2. Want to be Close

Makoto adjusted the lapels of his school uniform, then examined his reflection in the mirror.

He’d woken up uncharacteristically early in order to prepare for the day; he didn’t want to slip up and make mistakes at the start of the year. He’d made sure his hair was out of his eyes (for the most part), tucked in his shirt, and buckled his belt. As he zipped up the jacket, he paused.

Who was he kidding?

He left the jacket open and draped his headphones over his shoulders. Once more he turned to the mirror.

Much better.

* * *

Makoto stepped into the faculty office, scanning the room for any remaining teachers.

“Are you the transfer student?” A feminine voice called. Makoto turned and nodded to the approaching woman.

Her hair was dark, and pulled back in a ponytail. Her blouse was tucked into her skirt, a matching coat hanging from her shoulders. Her age showed on her face, but her expression was warm. “Yuki Makoto-kun, right? I’m Takami Saeko, your homeroom teacher. Nice to meet you!” She extended a hand, which he shook. “Ah, good grip. You must be a serious young man.”

Makoto gave a noncommittal shrug.

Takami snorted. “Not very talkative, huh? This is my first year teaching here, so you’re not the only stranger. If you ever need anything, just come see me, alright?” She winked before leading him out of the faculty office and into the spacious hall, her heels clicking on the tile floor. “There’s going to be an assembly before homeroom, I’ll show you the way.”

He followed mutely, eyes dragging over the corridor. The floors gleamed, probably freshly waxed—he wondered what kind of funding the academy had, for everything to be kept so clean and polished.

* * *

Within the first five minutes of the assembly, Makoto was ready to turn on his MP3 and take a nap. The principal’s speech was bordering on unintelligible, and after yawning for the _nth_ time, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

A few students around him were whispering, heads bowed so they wouldn’t attract attention. Snatches of their conversation made their way to his ears.

“Hey, didya hear? There’s a new transfer student.”

“ _Another?_ Is it a boy or a girl?”

“It’s a boy—a senior. I heard he’s cute. Gives off a mysterious vibe, y’know?”

“Sounds like your type!”

“I wish! But what about the curse? What if he—”

Makoto frowned and put on his headphones. 

* * *

 

Takami was a very liberal-minded teacher. She introduced herself enthusiastically and told some stories of her past experiences teaching, of some of her old students. By the end of homeroom, everyone loved her.

The bell rang, and Makoto sluggishly put his books in his bag. His property would probably be at the boys’ dorm by now, but before that he wanted to grab something to eat—hopefully Iwatodai would have a lot to offer.

Before he could stand and pursue this line of thinking, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Hey there!” A cheery, masculine voice greeted.

With a sigh, Makoto lifted his head to catch a glimpse of his captor.

The cap-wearing boy looked down at him with a lopsided grin, eyes full of mirth. “Your name’s Makoto-kun, right? I’m Iori Junpei. Nice to meet ya!”

Makoto blinked a few times before responding. “What do you want?”

The boy snorted. “Harsh! I was only trying to be nice—I mean, no one else seemed like they were gonna talk to ya.”

Well, he had a point there.

“Junpei-kun,” came a hesitant chirp from behind. The boys turned their heads.

It was a girl; she was small and pale, large eyes threatening to swallow the upper half of her face. The yellow Gekkoukan sweater had to be a size too large on her, her fingers barely peeking past the sleeves. Her hair was fluffy, but short and choppy, hanging mournfully around her face.

“Fuuka!” Junpei exclaimed, “C’mere and meet the new kid!” He gave Makoto a few pats for emphasis.

The newly-dubbed Fuuka’s eyes narrowed—her expression was wary as she approached, bowing her head slightly. “Yamagishi Fuuka. Um, it’s nice to meet you.”

Makoto stood and bowed back. “Yuki Makoto, same to you.” She stepped back, visibly relaxing the more distance she put between them.

“A-Anyway, Junpei-kun, Kirijo-senpai wanted all of us to meet in the lounge later today. I just wanted to let you know.”

Junpei smiled. “Alright, thanks for telling me!”

Fuuka frowned and, message delivered, turned and left.

Makoto wondered what he’d done to scare her. Before he could contemplate on it further, Junpei’s arm was over his shoulders again. “So, Makoto-kun, hungry at all?”

* * *

Tucked into the corner of the Strip Mall was a sushi bar—the sign above the entrance read Gatten Sushi. Junpei opened the door and ushered him inside.

The walls were lined with posters of a visual kei band—Gas Chamber. Behind the counter stood an incredibly tall man, with stylized blue hair and stage makeup. Makoto had the decency to pretend he wasn’t gawking in his direction.

“Welcome!” The presumed chef hollered. “What can I, the great Michel, get for you today?”

Junpei greeted ‘Michel’ with equal enthusiasm, ordering for Makoto and sitting him down. He snorted at Makoto’s expression. “I know he looks a little funny, but Mishina-san is the best sushi chef in the city.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “He gives discounts to everyone that attends his band’s concerts.”

The posters on the walls suddenly made sense.

For the next hour, Makoto was immersed in blaring rock music and surprisingly good sushi. He’d almost gotten used to the noise level when Junpei suddenly shot up out of his seat. “Oh, _shit!_ I have to get back to the dorm!” He slammed some bills down on the counter and pulled his phone out of his pocket, smiling apologetically. “Sorry to ditch you like this, man, but I seriously gotta go. I’ll make it up to ya!” And with that he was charging out of the restaurant.

Michel raised a dramatic penciled-in eyebrow. “Always in a rush, that one.” He turned his head to Makoto’s empty plate. “Ready for thirds?”

He was.

For fourths and fifths, too.

After the very abrupt but worthwhile demise of his wallet, Makoto headed back to the boys’ dorm. 

* * *

 

As expected of the renowned Gekkoukan Academy, the teachers immediately immersed the students in work, the curriculums challenging yet also refreshing. It helped that Takami was excellent at her job, and always willing to take questions. Makoto studied vigorously in the evenings.

He would’ve been studying in the afternoons, too, but Junpei had decided to grant him a social life. Not that it was unwanted—it was better than keeping to himself, and served as a pleasant change of pace.

Junpei helped him tour the different clubs (Makoto ended up sticking with kendo), showed him the best the cafeteria had to offer, and also introduced him to his friend group.

Fuuka, while timid and something of a wallflower, turned out to be very considerate and motivated. She was the president of the newly formed technology club, as well as a member of the cooking club. She invited him to join both, although he’d received some not-so-subtle hints to stay far away from any food she made.

Yukari was the senior captain of the archery club, and obviously good friends with Junpei. Their banter, while sometimes vicious, was offset by their concern and compassion for one another. She was wary of Makoto, though after learning that his main hobbies were eating and sleeping, accepted him as something of a background fixture. Like a lamp. Or a paperweight. She didn’t pay him very much attention.

They often spoke of a third girl, a foreigner named Aigis, although she was evidently out sick. He’d seen neither hide nor hair of her.

Once Makoto had unpacked and organized his dorm room, and the second week of school crawled by, things got weird.

A student from the neighboring class, Tomochika Kenji (evidently a friend of Junpei’s, given the amount of times they’d run into him at the arcade), had caught him in the hall before first period started. “Hey, you’re Yuki-kun right? The transfer student?”

Makoto gave a sleepy nod.

“Anyone told you about the curse yet?” This piqued his interest. He shook his head and entreated Kenji to elaborate. “So last year, there were three transfer students—all in the same class. One came at the beginning of the year like you, one in the summer, and one in the winter. Thing is, a little bit after he’d transferred in, the last guy—his name was Mochizuki—he disappeared. The school apparently got a notice about it, but there was a rumor that he might’ve run off and eloped or something. Since it was so sudden and all. Then on the day of graduation, one of the girls, Arisato, collapsed.”

For one jarring moment, Makoto’s thoughts grinded to a halt. _Arisato?_ Could it be a coincidence? He’d have to investigate. He filed the information away for later.

“…And now, Aigis hasn’t shown up for class since school started! It’s being called the Gekkoukan Curse—a ghost stealing the souls of outsiders. Pretty creepy, right?”

Makoto hummed in agreement. Junpei’s overprotectiveness was beginning to make sense; it was no wonder he kept Makoto away from the rest of their classmates, and dragged him out of school as quickly as possible. Perhaps Junpei didn’t want him to hear about the curse—or worry about it.

Kenji gave a soft snort before setting his hands on his hips. “Anyway, it’s just a rumor. I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. Sorry for bogging you down like that, I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s fine.” A suspicion was eating at him, though. He decided to relent. “Was this…Arisato…friends with Iori?”

Kenji raised an eyebrow. “Funny you ask—they were best buds. There were even some rumors goin’ around that they were dating. None of it was true, but you get the idea.”

Makoto nodded as the bell rang. He and Kenji parted ways and headed to class.


	3. Troubled

Takami dismissed homeroom much more cheerily than what was warranted for a Thursday, but you had to give the woman credit; anyone that could skip around in heels and still keep a senior class in check warranted respect.

Junpei, two desks behind Makoto and one to the right, scooted his chair forward until he was within earshot. “We got lucky with the teachers this year. You should’ve been here junior year—Toriumi-sensei was nice, but that cake punishment was something else!”

What the hell was cake punishment?

Fuuka nearly tripped on her way over, her phone in her hand. “Junpei-kun, could I talk to you for a minute?”

He looked momentarily confused before donning his usual grin. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Her eyes flitted nervously to Makoto, but she continued anyways. “Yukari-chan was wondering if we were available to visit the hospital today—she’s going to buy some flowers, and…”

Instantly, the mood soured. Junpei grimaced. “Uh… Yeah, I’m cool with that. How about you?”

Fuuka frowned, eyebrows pulling together into a distressed expression. “Yes, I’m going, but… What about Aigis?”

“What about her? Is she not going?”

Fuuka bit her lip. “She doesn’t want to. She—it scares her, I think. I’m not sure.”

“Oh.” Junpei scratched his head, unsure what to do with that information, before suddenly remembering Makoto’s existence. “Sorry about that, dude. We uh, have some friends and—well, how about you come with us?”

Before Makoto had a chance to respond, Fuuka interjected. “Junpei-kun? Are you sure that’s a good idea? He’s not involved…” She trailed off when she realized he was looking at her, and quickly waved her hands. “Oh, I don’t mean it like that, you’re a very nice person Yuki-kun, it’s just…”

Junpei groaned. “C’mon! Not like it’s gonna hurt anybody. ‘Sides, he probably doesn’t have anything else to do. Right?”

Makoto nodded, although he wasn’t sure how proud he should be of that fact.

There was always studying, he thought to himself.

* * *

They met up with Yukari at the station. She’d already purchased the flowers—three bouquets. Presumably for three people. They made their way to the hospital in relative silence.

Stepping into the lobby shouldn’t have been as nostalgic as it felt. He’d probably only been here once or twice, as a child.

Fuuka and Junpei walked a little ways off, whispering hurriedly about something. Yukari gave them a curious glance before gesturing for him to follow her to the front desk. “Excuse me, I need to ask which room my friend is in…”

Makoto tuned her out, looking back over at his classmates. They seemed to have finished their exchange/argument, and were now fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. Though he found their behavior incredibly suspicious, he elected not to comment on it.

He kept his gaze on the ceiling as they marched through the halls, a parade of four armed with bouquets wrapped in crinkling white paper. When they finally reached their destination, Junpei took a step forward, giving Yukari a nervous glance.

“Y’think it’s okay to just barge in? I mean, she still doesn’t remem—”

“Zip it, and open the door.” Yukari hissed, glaring daggers at the boy. He complied, leading them into the brightly lit room.

The bed was vacant, but on the chair scooted up next to the window sat a rose-haired young lady, clothed in a loose hospital gown, scratching away with her pencil in a sketchbook. She didn’t turn to greet them as they entered, but her hand glided to a halt.

“Uh, hey Chidorin.” Junpei greeted nervously, taking a few small steps closer. “It’s me, Junpei. I brought some friends this time.”

The woman, ‘Chidorin,’ tilted her head. “Oh, hello Junpei-kun. It’s nice to see…” She paused when her eyes fell upon the flowers, her face lighting up. “Oh, you shouldn’t have—thank you so much!” She rose to accept the first bouquet, holding them close to her chest and inhaling deeply.

Junpei was grinning like an idiot, rubbing the back of his neck as he responded. “Well uh, Yukaricchi picked out the flowers, so really you should be thanking her.”

She peeked around him, smiling serenely at the other three. “I appreciate it. Now, I think there’s a vase in here somewhere…”

After a brief search, the flowers were sitting in a vase next to the bed. Following a sudden pause in the conversation, she looked over at Makoto. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. It’s nice to meet you.” She bowed low. “Sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m Yoshino Chidori. I’m suffering from a little amnesia at the moment, but Junpei-kun and his friends have been very supportive of me.”

“Yuki Makoto. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes narrowed—either in recognition or amusement, he wasn’t sure. “That’s…a very nice name.”

Eventually the four excused themselves so Chidori could rest. Junpei was only somewhat reluctant to leave.

The walking began again, though when they reached the door, it slid open to reveal an empty room.

“Are you kidding me?!” Yukari huffed. “He shouldn’t be walking around! I’ll go get a nurse—you guys look for him!” She was off in the blink of an eye.

Makoto was impressed; she was much faster than he’d thought she would be. Fuuka stammered something about checking the lobby, leaving the flowers on the cot.

Junpei pinched the space between his eyebrows, muttering a few expletives. “I really don’t need any excitement right now… Stick with me, alright? You don’t know what he looks like, so it’d be useless to split up.” Makoto nodded. “But this place is huge! Where could he have wandered off to?!”

“The roof?”

“Uh… Well, I guess it’s as good a place to start as any. Let’s go.”

The duo rushed for the stairs; the elevator didn’t occur to them until later.

It was a nice day out, so it wasn’t surprising to find quite a few people already there—patients, nurses, visitors.

At the far end of the roof, a solitary figure leaned against the fence. His hair was long, and tied back. He was tan, with dark circles under his eyes. The hospital clothes looked strange on him, especially the robe and slippers.

“Aragaki-san!” Junpei dashed over to the brooding young man, who quickly put on a scowl.

“Quit makin’ such a racket.”

“O-Oh, right. Sorry. Wait—no, you shouldn’t be walking around on your own! The doctors said—”

“D’ya think I give a shit about what the doctors said?” Junpei tensed, ready to argue, but the fight deflated out of the older boy. “Never mind. I know I’m bein’ stupid. I just needed to get outta that room for a while.” He noticed Makoto, sending a weary glare in his direction. “The hell’re you?”

“Uh, Aragaki-san, this is Yuki Makoto-kun. He’s a transfer student; just moved here this year.”

Makoto dipped his head. “Nice to meet you.”

He frowned. “Aragaki Shinjiro. Same to you, I guess.” Junpei’s phone chose that moment to ring, the boy scrambling to dig it out of his pocket.

“Hello? Oh, Fuuka… Yeah, we found him. He was on the roof… Alright. We’ll bring him with us… Uh-huh. Okay, see ya.” He flipped it closed. “Yukaricchi and Fuuka are waiting for us downstairs. C’mon, Aragaki-san.”

On the way down, Junpei explained that Shinjiro stayed in the same dorm as them, and had ended up in the hospital because of some sort of accident. Shinjiro didn’t say much of anything, besides grumbling along to Junpei’s story, but Makoto got the impression that the older boy didn’t like others worrying after him.

Once they’d reached their destination, Yukari gave him a stern lecture. They asked after Shinjiro’s condition, how he was feeling, and then had the door slammed in their faces.

This was apparently not out of the norm, since Yukari seemed to brush it off rather quickly. “Alright, one more stop. Let’s get moving.”

“Wait,” Fuuka cut in, “um, Yuki-kun, can we…talk? In private?"

He nodded, and followed her a little ways down the hall.

She cleared her throat, expression pensive. “I’m sorry Junpei-kun brought you along—you don’t know any of these people, and this has probably been uncomfortable for you.”

“Not at all,” he began, but was unable to continue.

“I don’t mean to push you away or anything, but… I think it would be best if you left now.” She ducked her head, hiding her face. “I would really appreciate it. This is…a bit of a sensitive subject. Please don’t ask any questions.”

He was beyond confused, but Makoto nodded. “Alright. I understand.”

She snapped to attention, eyes wide. “R-Really? You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

She smiled then—the first real smile he’d seen on her. “Thank you very much. Um… I’ll see you at school tomorrow, then. Have a nice day.” She bowed once more before running over to Junpei and Yukari.

Makoto returned to the boys’ dorm.

* * *

The sun was setting; painting the cloudless sky a deep orange that messed with his eyes and gave him a headache. The room was dark, save for the square of light cast onto the desk by his lamp. His physics textbook sat open before him, pencil in his hand.

The air was stifling. Makoto opened the window—it was still warm, but it wouldn’t be for long. The sea breeze would cool the island down within an hour or two. Makoto sneezed.

He really should start studying. The test on Friday promised to be at least somewhat difficult. His grades were the only thing keeping him here—without that scholarship, it was back to…well. He couldn’t call it home. Iwatodai was his home; this was where he’d been born and raised.

And he’d moved back here for answers, but ended up with more questions. What was the Gekkoukan Curse? Who was the Arisato that Kenji had mentioned? Who was Aigis, and why hadn’t she come to school?

What happened that night eleven years ago?

He needed a nap—

Everything went black.

The warm breeze died, replaced by a sharp, cold wind. The chair disappeared, the floor dropped away, and he was left weightless.

There was a familiar creaking noise, like a door.

Makoto opened his eyes, bewildered.

He had to be dreaming.

Why was the _ceiling_ blue, too? Who’d hired the interior decorator for this place? Who was singing? And in the distance, was that a piano playing?

The chair felt familiar; he lowered his gaze, watched his hands sink into dyed leather.

The chair from that dream—

“My, but you are an odd one.” An older, somewhat curious voice observed. Makoto lifted his head.

On the table before him sat a deck of cards, and beyond that was a sofa. Upon it was the strangest man he’d ever seen—short torso, long lanky limbs, a nose fit for Pinocchio… Behind the sofa stood two other strangers, with matching silvery hair and gold eyes. God, they were wearing the same shade of blue. These people took color coordination to a whole new level.

“This space functioned as an elevator for our previous guest; and considering the circumstances of your arrival, it has retained this form. Perhaps it might change further into your journey? Only time will tell.” The man gestured widely with one gloved hand. “Welcome to the Velvet Room.”

This was…certainly something. He hadn’t had such a vivid dream since the girl and the piano. “What the hell?”

The gold-eyed woman snorted.

Long Nose cleared his throat. “This place exists between dream and reality; mind and matter. Only those who have forged a contract—or are about to, in your case—may enter it. I am Igor, this room’s master.”

What the hell. “Is this related to—to her?”

“If by _her_ you are referring to our previous guest, then yes. Her journey came to a close, but with the power she had gained, she was able to manipulate fate. Hence your arrival here.” Igor steepled his fingers underneath his chin, smiling predatorily. “Your journey has already begun. In order for you to continue down this path, however, you will be in need of my services.”

Makoto narrowed his eyes. “What are your services?”

There was a flash of light, and a paper appeared on the table, a quill and inkpot alongside it. Makoto stared.

“That is your contract. Have no fear; all it states is that you shall pursue your path and accept the destination.”

_‘I chooseth this fate of mine own free will.’_

Tacky. He reached for the quill and signed his name.

Once he’d finished, it vanished in a similar way to how it had appeared. Igor chuckled. “It seems that is all the time we have for now. Do not fret—we shall meet again soon enough.” The deformed old man gestured once more, and on the table appeared a glass key. “This is the Velvet Key. It will allow you to enter this place willingly, if you are able to find the door. I look forward to accompanying you on your journey.”

The singing faded away, the blues turning to blacks. The room vanished, and gravity sucked him back down, down, down—

Pain rocketed through the side of his head. Makoto snapped awake, dimly aware of the drool on his chin and sleeve, flustered to find himself on the floor. He sat up, and saw that the chair had fallen over.

The sky was dark. There was a chill in the air now. Makoto moved to wrap his jacket more securely around himself, and felt an odd weight in his pocket. He reached in.

The Velvet Key.

So…what did this mean? It hadn’t been a dream?

What the fuck?

He was too tired to ponder it much; he needed to study, take a shower, maybe eat something, and sleep. Cryptic not-dreams and weird keys could wait until morning.

* * *

Makoto made himself get up and go to school early, and he hated every second of it.

Despite the bags the size of saucers under his eyes and his shaky gait, he was a man on a mission.

He eventually tracked down his target: Rumormonger Tomochika Kenji.

“Oh, hey dude.” Kenji greeted. He frowned. “You alright? Did you sleep at all?”

“Not enough,” Makoto sighed wistfully. “I had some questions.”

The boy grinned. “Well, I’m your man! What did you need to know?”

“Can you tell me anything else about the Gekkoukan Curse?”

Kenji sighed. “Look, man. I didn’t mean to freak you out with it last time. It’s really nothing to worry about.” Makoto stared. “…Alright, fine. There isn’t much else to know, though. Like I said, it’s just a rumor.” Makoto continued to stare. “Okay, I got it! Yeesh. So last year, there was this group of girls that were bullying another student—Yamagishi, I think the name was.”

Yamagishi was Fuuka’s last name. Makoto nodded. “The girls pulled some sort of sick prank; locked her up in the gym overnight, or something like that. Anyway, after that, Yamagishi disappeared. A lot of rumors went around that she’d either committed suicide or run away or what have you, but the next day, one of the bullies appeared in front of the school gates in the morning. With Apathy Syndrome.”

Makoto remembered hearing about Apathy Syndrome on the news—the doctors had never been able to determine a cause, and there hadn’t been a known cure until all of the patients spontaneously recovered back in January. It remained one of the biggest modern day medical mysteries.

“Every day after that, another one of the bullies showed up with Apathy Syndrome, until there was only one left. Long story short, Yamagishi came back to school, and the bullies recovered, but no one was able to explain the incident. That’s when the rumors about the Gekkoukan ghost started.”

“The school is haunted?” Makoto murmured.

Kenji shrugged. “Supposedly. Lots of weird shit happened last year, and plenty of it was attributed to the Gekkoukan ghost. When Yamagishi went missing, people said she was possessed, and decided to take revenge on the bullies. When Mochizuki disappeared, some kids said that either the ghost ate him, or he fell in love with it.” He snorted. “Mochizuki was a bit of a lady killer, and the majority opinion is that the ghost is a girl, so that one got a lot of traction. After that, on graduation day, Arisato fell ill. Some people say she died, but I’m pretty sure she’s just in the hospital recovering. Probably stress sickness or something, I dunno. But some people think she was attacked by the ghost. Aigis was with her at the time, and nobody’s seen her since then, so the ghost might’ve gotten to her too. Or possessed her. Like I said, it’s just a bunch of rumors.”

“That would mean that the curse doesn’t target just transfer students.”

Kenji threw his hands in the air. “Dude, there are so many different stories that it’s hard to keep track of. But I promise you, you’ll be fine. It’s just a bunch of BS.” He glanced at his watch. “Was that it?”

“Can you tell me anything else about the three transfer students?”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “You could ask just about anyone that question. All of them were pretty famous. Arisato was in, like, a bajillion clubs, _and_ Student Council. There were tons of bad rumors about her—that she’d been spotted out late at night or that she was dating the captain of the boxing team. She actually had a fan club, at one point. Some dude was selling pictures of her.” Kenji scowled. “Junpei-kun managed to track that guy down, though, so it didn’t escalate. As for Aigis…well, she’s a foreigner, so she stood out a lot. Had a funny sense of humor. She was always hanging off of Arisato’s arm.” Kenji paused. “Come to think of it, all of the transfer students knew each other. Arisato and Aigis lived in the same dorm, and some people were saying that Mochizuki and Arisato might’ve been dating. Junpei-kun and Mochizuki were good friends, too.”

It was strange how everything went back to Junpei. The bell rang—Kenji stretched. “Saved by the bell! I got nothing else for ya, man; see ya later.”

Makoto waved goodbye and went to first period.


	4. Memories of the School

The papers were passed back, and Makoto sighed in relief. One hundred percent. His scholarship was safe. His head hit the desk.

Behind him, Junpei wailed in despair. “C’mon! I even studied for this!”

Muffled laughter trailed around the classroom, and it was thanks to the contrast of smiling faces against Fuuka’s distressed expression that he noticed it in the first place. She sat ahead of him to the left, her test score clearly visible—triple digits. So, what had caused this change in mood?

He decided to let it be, class dragging ever onward, the traditional clock on the wall ticking quietly.

He only realized he’d fallen asleep when the bell rang, dismissing the students for lunch. Fuuka took off like a rocket, the door slamming open as she exited. Given her typically quiet disposition, whatever was nagging at her had to be serious. Junpei’s reaction seemed to indicate as much, at least.

“Fuuka?!” He called, bolting upright in his seat. Makoto made to get out of his chair, but was pushed back down by Junpei’s hand on his shoulder. “Uh, lemme handle this. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded at his friend’s retreating figure, though only after a moment or so realized he would have to get up anyways—he had something he needed to investigate.

Luckily, Takami was in the faculty office when he opened the door. She was on her feet and smiling in seconds. “Yuki-kun! What can I do for you?”

“I have a strange request,” he began. “Do you have a copy of last year’s yearbook? I’d like to borrow it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have those in here, but I can give you a slip to give to the librarian. Just a second.” She walked over to her workspace and started scribbling on a post-it. “May I ask what this is about?”

“Curiosity. I think I know someone who attended last year.”

“Really?” Takami exclaimed. “Well, I wish you good luck! It’s always nice to reconnect with old friends. I wouldn’t be of much help, but you can try and ask some of the other teachers if they know whoever you’re looking for.”

There was a grunt from across the table. “Nosy kids. Why do you need a yearbook for something like that? Can’t you just go online?” Grumbled an older teacher.

Takami rolled her eyes. “I thought you of all people would be pleased that a student is taking advantage of the library, Ekoda-sensei.”

“Alright, who is it you’re looking for, boy?”

Makoto didn’t really want to ask him, but decided he could take all the information he could get. “Do you know a student named Arisato? She would’ve been a junior last year.”

Ekoda’s expression soured. “That troublemaker! If you were friends with her, that says a lot about your personality.” His scathing gaze swept over him. “Wearing your uniform wrong and letting your hair hang in your eyes—and we don’t allow electronics in the classroom! Tch. Typical vagrant.”

Wow. What an asshole. “So you know her, then?”

“Unfortunately. She was seen out late and associated with scum. No respect for authority. She was going nowhere in life.” He smiled. “I guess it’s better for everyone she fell ill.”

Makoto liked to think he was an even-tempered person. He wasn’t particularly passionate about anything, and was typically mellow. It was a rare thing for him to get angry.

His blood boiled at the teacher’s implications. It was probably visible on his face, since Takami decided to intervene. “Ekoda-sensei, that’s no way to talk about a student, especially to her friend. Yuki-kun, come with me.” She steered him towards the door with a hand on his shoulder, and he let her. He didn’t know what he might say if he stayed.

Outside of the faculty office, Takami groaned. “Just my luck. He’s almost as bad as Hanya… I’m sorry about that, Yuki-kun. I’m sure he’s exaggerating.”

Makoto nodded, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves. “Right. Thanks.”

She smiled. “Still not very talkative, huh? Well,” she placed the post-it in his hand, “I hope you find what you’re looking for. And make sure to eat something before lunch ends!” She waved as he headed down the hallway.

The library was…oddly empty. He would’ve thought that, in such a prestigious academy, people would be in here all the time.

Oh well. It made his task easier, since there wasn’t a line. The aide peeked up at him from over the rim of her book. “Can I help you?”

He handed her the post-it. She nodded. “Alright, one sec.”

He was promptly seated and thumbing through the pages to the junior section.

Aigis was the easiest to find—her hair really stood out. Interestingly, there wasn’t a surname listed. Where was she from? Why did she look so familiar? He had a feeling he’d seen her face before, but he couldn’t place the memory.

She wasn’t listed to be in any clubs—really, there was very little information on her. He sighed. Of course this would be difficult.

On the same page, just a row down, was Arisato Minako. His breath caught in his throat.

She looked exactly like she had in the dream, red eyes and all. Were they contacts? Why would she bother with something like that?

Kenji hadn’t lied—she was in a lot of clubs. Student Council, the volleyball team, the naginata club, cooking club, dance club, fashion club…the list went on and on. She certainly kept herself busy. He had his hands full enough with kendo and the technology club, which Fuuka had ended up dragging him into.

…He couldn’t find Mochizuki. He looked through the juniors again, and then a third time. He wasn’t there.

It was true that he’d only attended for a short time, according to Kenji—but shouldn’t there have been _something?_ This was just odd. Maybe he should ask Junpei about this.

Makoto’s stomach growled. Perhaps this had been enough sleuthing for one day.

En route to the cafeteria, Makoto ran into Kenji again, who looked oddly winded, and maybe a little panicked. “Yuki-kun! Hey, dude, ya gotta hear this.” He panted, doubled over with his hands on his knees. Makoto raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“There’s a rumor going around that Aigis is missing.”

Oh no. “Really?” That explained Fuuka’s earlier behavior, at least. As well as the audience they’d accumulated. His classmates were examining Makoto as if he were a bomb about to go off.

“I dunno how or why, the gossip varies. I mean, it could be anything right? Maybe it’s just a mistake and she moved back to wherever she came from, or she’s still out sick. Or maybe…”

“The curse?” Makoto finished. Kenji nodded grimly.

“But dude, what if it’s real? What if there’s a ghost out to get transfer students? This means that it’ll be coming after you next. Aren’t you worried at all?”

Makoto thought about it, long and hard. “Not really.” Sure, he was weirded out, but it seemed like the students of Gekkoukan were forgetting that ghosts _didn’t actually exist_.

Kenji made a face. “Dude, you’re way too laid-back…” He turned on his heel, shoulders rolling dramatically. “If I were you, I’d be freaking out. See ya later, if you don’t go missing or some shit.”

Well, he’d changed his tune pretty quickly. Aigis’ disappearance was likely what had put him over the edge. Makoto probably wouldn’t be able to talk to him for information anymore.

He made his way back to the classroom—in the end, he hadn’t been able to get any lunch. His stomach roared its dissent.

He slept through the rest of the day, the bell startling him awake. He turned his head, expecting Junpei’s fist digging into his skull, only to find he wasn’t at his desk. Makoto turned—Fuuka’s bag sat on her chair, but the owner was absent. He frowned. Had they been gone since lunch?

He shuffled out of the classroom. It figured that his only lead on the curse was missing. And that his only way to contact said lead was gone. Just his luck.

In a foul mood, Makoto returned to the boys’ dorm.

* * *

 

Despite the fact that the school day had been relatively shitty, Makoto had managed to make the most of his free time. He’d started his hunt for a lock that the Velvet Key could fit into—he hadn’t had very much success, but he wasn’t expecting much.

He used his spare notebook to record his findings so far. Having it all written down made him feel kind of like a detective; putting clues together, trying to solve a mystery.

That being said, he didn’t know very much at all.

Supposedly, Arisato was hospitalized—but was she at Tatsumi Memorial Hospital, or somewhere else? Was she truly ill, or dead? How had she come to be here?

Who was this mysterious Mochizuki? Where had Aigis gone? And if it wasn’t a curse that was affecting them, what was really happening?

And how did Junpei connect to all of this?

Makoto sighed. He’d never gotten the boy’s number. If he had, he could just call him up and ask about all of this shit. His curiosity would have to wait until tomorrow.

…If Junpei even showed up to class.

If he didn’t, maybe Fuuka would know something. It seemed as if she was the only other person to come into contact with the so-called ‘ghost,’ so perhaps she knew what was going on. Wait, would _Fuuka_ come to class?

Makoto began considering worst-case scenarios, in which all three of his newfound friends went missing and he was stuck at a dead end.

He was unable to study when he was so distracted, so he opted for a nap instead.

* * *

 

When Makoto woke up, it was dark outside.

He’d left the window open again, and the cold had invaded every corner of the room. Shivering, he shut it, and pulled the sheets around him.

It was mid-Spring, why did it feel like it was below zero? He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen refused to light up. Was it dead?

Frustrated, he crawled out of bed and walked over to the desk, hitting the switch on the lamp.

It didn’t turn on.

A tendril of dread curled in his stomach. He turned towards the traditional clock on the wall.

Midnight.

The hands weren’t moving.


	5. Deep Breath

“ _Shit_ ,” Makoto murmured, staring out the window. The ocean was red. Fucking red.

This definitely wasn’t normal. What the hell was happening?

With numb, shaking fingers, he tried every piece of technology in his room—his computer, his phone again, his DS, his MP3. Nothing worked. The damn things wouldn’t even turn on.

When his breath became visible, Makoto changed out of his uniform and into his heaviest pullover and jacket. Where the hell were his gloves? Probably in that box shoved into the back of the closet—

He couldn’t waste time with this. He tucked his notebook in his pocket, along with his phone, and headed outside.

No one was in the hall. He went to the room next to his and knocked; no one responded. He tried the knob, only to find it locked. He smacked the wood in frustration.

“Anyone here?” He called down the hall, managing to keep most of the warble out of his voice. Nothing—not even an echo. He ran for the stairs.

Someone _had_ to be in the lobby. He nearly tripped and fell down two flights of stairs; that’s what he got for stampeding around in the dark.

He reached the first floor and whipped his head around, searching—

He froze.

Behind the front desk was an upright coffin.

There were more; two were on the couch, one was in front of the television, and he could see more outside through the windows. What the hell was happening? It was almost as if the coffins had replaced the people—

There was a coughing noise from behind him; a wet coughing noise, followed by a gurgling, a squelching.

Makoto dared a glance.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.

Some sort of black liquid was gathering together into a bulbous form, bubbling and heaving. Two bright red dots blinked into being.

Not dots. Eyes.

The thing had _eyes_.

Makoto ran for the door. Judging from the noise, it was following him.

He’d barely stepped outside when the smell hit him. Coppery—blood. The ocean—the gutters—

He’d heard of water to wine, but this was ridiculous.

The sludge monster growled, and Makoto set aside his sarcasm in favor of hauling ass.

He ran down street after street, passing numerous caskets. In every alley, he swore he saw more eyes; the sounds kept getting louder. Were more following him? He didn’t look back to find out.

The cold air hurt his lungs. His sneakers slapped the pavement rhythmically; he tried to focus on that instead. Anything but what might be behind him.

Muscle memory led him to the school gates. Without hesitation, he threw himself against them, climbing up as quickly as possible. His arms shook with the effort. Once he reached the top, he jumped.

He tried to roll to soften his landing, but his foot still took the brunt of it at an awkward angle. He bit back a cry of shock, forcing himself up to his hands and knees.

He could still rotate his ankle. Only lightly sprained. Thank god.

Makoto scrambled to his feet and turned towards the gates.

Holy _shit_.

There were so many of them. Red-eyed shitbags shoved up against the gates.

At least twenty yards in both directions.

It didn’t seem like they could get through. Small blessings, indeed.

Now that he was out of immediate danger, Makoto’s brain kicked into high gear. What the hell was happening? Did this have something to do with the curse? If so, running to the school might have been a very bad idea. He couldn’t risk going inside. He liked sleep, sure, but disappearing and/or coming down with Apathy Syndrome didn’t seem very fun.

This had to be some kind of nightmare, although the pain radiating from his ankle suggested otherwise.

He just needed to think. He sat down, crossing his legs underneath him, and massaged his temples. Observation first.

Water had turned into blood—he hadn’t confirmed that though, just assumed it. For all he knew it was an optical hallucination. Or rust had dyed it. Stranger things had happened.

Technology wasn’t working. At least, his own stuff wasn’t. None of the lights in the dorm had been on, but that could possibly be attributed to a blackout. His MP3 and whatnot might have died and he hadn’t noticed. He’d never bothered with the clock, either.

The coffins.

How could he explain the coffins?

Calm down, he told himself. Deep breaths.

The coffins had seemed to have replaced the people. Again, he couldn’t confirm it, but it made the most sense. What else would a bunch of upright caskets be doing on the sidewalk?

He wondered what would happen if he tipped one over, or opened one.

_Focus_.

The sludge monsters.

His head shot up. They were still there, staring at him from the gates. From what he could see, judging by their size and composition, they could easily slip through the bars. Why weren’t they? Was there something keeping them out? Or did they fear something inside the school? Maybe the Gekkoukan ghost had something to do with it?

There was a _boom_ in the distance. The ground shook. Makoto forced himself to stay still.

The monsters didn’t seem bothered by it. He didn’t look away, just in case they decided to come in after all.

The rumbling came again, closer this time. He rubbed the sweat off of his face and stood.

Something was coming. He hoped it was friendly. If not, he’d have to risk getting to know the Gekkoukan ghost.

There was a bright flash of light from beyond the gates. Makoto squinted, trying to make out whatever it was—and was promptly blinded.

His knees gave out after a sudden crashing sound, followed by the unmistakable noise of a machine gun. Then came an inhuman screech, and the ground heaved. Makoto put his back to the commotion and curled up, covering his ears with his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

Butterflies danced behind his eyelids, and the world went quiet.

Still he waited.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap_ …

It stopped. Makoto opened his eyes.

Standing over him was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl dressed in the Gekkoukan uniform. The same one he’d met his first day in Iwatodai.

“Aigis?”

She blinked. “How do you know my name?”

He stared at her eerily symmetrical face, her porcelain skin and glowing irises. Then he noticed that the tips of her fingers were smoking.

“I have to be dreaming.” He said to no one in particular. Maybe she was the Gekkoukan ghost. Hell, anything was possible at this point.

Aigis smiled. “If only that were true.” She offered a hand, which he gratefully took. He was shaky on his feet, but able to stand. “Who…are you?”

“Yuki Makoto,” he said a little bit breathlessly. “I’ve been looking for you, actually.”

She blinked twice. “Have you?”

“Yeah, I have some questions—”

Aigis turned, the motion so smooth it couldn’t possibly have been human. Or perhaps he was still in shock. “I am sorry, Yuki-san, but this will have to wait for another time. It is not safe here.”

He couldn’t dispute that. “Where _is_ safe? What’s happening?” Makoto only then realized he hadn’t let go of her hand. He looked down. Her fingers…had holes at the tips. She reaffirmed her grip and led him through an opening in the gate.

“We are currently experiencing the phenomenon known as the Dark Hour.” Aigis said. “It is a hidden hour between one day and the next—it is during this time that creatures known as Shadows appear. Humans typically transmogrify into coffins as a form of protection, although this does not happen to those with the Potential.”

He didn’t bother with the disbelief; he could try and debunk her explanation later. For now he absorbed all of the information he could. “Potential—is that what happened to me? That’s why I’m not—” He couldn’t finish.

Aigis nodded. “I can…detect that you have the Potential. It is the reason why you are still conscious. Although I cannot tell you much more than that. I have come to learn that most of what I had thought to be true was fabricated in order to deceive us.”

_Us?_

Makoto shook his head. “That’s alright, you’ve told me plenty. Um, where are we going?”

Aigis paused. “Ah. I…am not sure.” She turned to look at him. “If I may ask, where do you live, Yuki-san?”

“The boys’ dorm.” He pointed with his free hand. “But I ran from there, I don’t know—”

She started off in that direction, dragging him along with her. “Yuki-san, the Dark Hour was supposed to cease after January 31st earlier this year. The fact that it has returned is a sign that something terrible is about to happen.”

“Something terrible?” Makoto echoed. “Like what?”

She didn’t respond. Makoto didn’t press her.

They arrived at the dorm without incident. Aigis opened the door cautiously and peered inside. “It is safe. You may come in.”

He followed her inside. “My room is on the third floor.” She nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to lead the way. Upon reaching his room, Aigis stopped.

“You can rest easy, Yuki-san. Go into your room and lock the door. I will make sure that the Shadows are unable to enter.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asked. Again, she smiled—it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes, I will be fine. Go to sleep Yuki-san. We will talk again some other time.”

He stared her down. “I have a lot of questions.”

She met his gaze. “As do I.”

A beat of silence passed. He sighed. “Alright. Be safe.”

“I shall.” She closed the door, and he turned the lock.


	6. This Strange Sensation

Needless to say, Makoto didn’t get a whole lot of sleep.

By morning, his ankle had swollen up into an ugly red, and throbbed when he put weight on it. Evidently, he’d landed on it worse than he’d thought. He went to the dorm manager for some ice and something to wrap it up with, and, surprisingly, wasn’t questioned about his injury. Makoto didn’t dwell on it—he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He tried to clean himself up a bit, but his face was still sallow when he was ready to head to school.

His limp was a little more pronounced than he would have liked. He could feel eyes on his back as he shambled through the halls. What did the other students think? Did he look like he’d been a victim of the curse?

Unsurprisingly, neither Junpei nor Fuuka showed up for first period. Makoto spent the vast majority of the morning dead asleep.

The lunch bell woke him up, but he ignored his stomach in favor of once again visiting the faculty office.

Luckily, Ekoda was nowhere to be found. Instead, Takami was talking with another teacher—Mayuzumi Yukino. Takami waved Makoto over. “Morning, sleepyhead!” Ah. So she _had_ seen him dozing off. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you know anything about Iori or Yamagishi?” He asked, rubbing the sand out of his eyes.

Takami pursed her lips. “I called their dorm earlier, but no one picked up. I was actually going to head over there after school, and check to see if everything was alright. You’re more than welcome to join me, Yuki-kun.”

He parted his lips to agree, only to pause when the door to the faculty office opened. In stepped Yukari, Junpei, and Fuuka, all pale and dead-eyed.

“Oh my.” Takami was out of her seat in a flash, hands fluttering at her sides as she examined them up and down. “What happened? Are you guys alright?” Mayuzumi was quick to join her.

“Why are you three so late, Takeba?”

It was the first time he’d seen the archery captain look so timid, so uncomfortable. When he shifted to face them better, her eyes flew to him—to his bound ankle, his weight leaning heavily on his other foot. Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, Sensei, there was an emergency.”

Mayuzumi and Takami exchanged incredulous looks. “What kind of emergency?”

Yukari’s lips thinned. It seemed she wouldn’t be sharing any more than that. Mayuzumi looked ready to push the issue, but Takami sighed. “Alright. You don’t have to share if you aren’t comfortable. But if there’s any way we can help, please let us know. Stay safe.” She turned to look back at Makoto. “Yuki-kun can review what you missed with you, Yamagishi-chan, Iori-kun. If he was awake for it.” She winked.

Makoto rubbed his neck abashedly. 

* * *

 

Back in the classroom (after grabbing some snacks from the vending machine—Makoto was ravenous), the three gathered in a small circle to spend what little remained of their lunch period.

“What happened to you guys yesterday?” Makoto began, taking the two off guard. It was rare for him to initiate conversation. “Does it have to do with that rumor about Aigis?”

Junpei shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Well uh, kinda? I guess? It’s—”

“It’s a private matter.” Fuuka cut in, and despite her nervous expression her voice didn’t shake. “I’m really sorry, Yuki-kun, but we’d rather not discuss it.”

Well, alright. “I saw her.”

“What?” Junpei asked reflexively, not quite registering what he’d said. Fuuka’s eyes widened.

“Y-You saw Aigis?!” She slammed her hands on her desk, drawing a few eyes from around the classroom. “Where?! Is she okay? How do you—”

Makoto shook his head. “Tell me what happened.”

She flinched, wholly surprised. Junpei stared at him, slack-jawed. “Dude, are you serious?”

Makoto didn’t respond, only maintaining eye contact with Fuuka. She bit her lip, eyes flitting anxiously from side to side. “Okay.”

“ _Okay?!_ ” Junpei echoed, launching out of his chair and sending it careening into the desk behind him.

“But not now.” She leaned closer, voice dropping so she wouldn’t be overheard. “After school. Y-You can come to our dorm.” She looked over at Junpei. “Is that alright?”

He pinched the space between his brows and groaned. “Yeah, fine, that works. But you’re the one explaining this to Yukaricchi. God damn it.”

Lunch ended. Makoto was strangely awake for the rest of the day, bouncing his good leg underneath the desk. Finally, _finally_ he was getting somewhere.

* * *

The ride on the monorail back to the mainland was beyond awkward. Yukari looked spectacularly agitated, glaring at Makoto every few seconds as if to remind him of her ire. Fuuka didn’t know what to do with herself, hands constantly moving, keeping her gaze anywhere but him. Junpei pulled his hat low over his face and went deathly still the whole ride.

From there, it wasn’t a long walk to the Iwatodai dorm. Upon entering the lounge, Makoto was immediately tackled by a blur of silver, landing hard on his ass. The next thing he knew, he was getting a face full of slobber.

“Koro-chan!” Fuuka exclaimed.

And then the warm, fluffy beast was off of him, sitting in front of him, tail wagging and thumping excitedly against the carpeted floor. Makoto slowly made his way to his feet.

“That’s…strange.” Yukari said. “He’s never done that to anyone before.”

“Are you alright, Yuki-kun?” Fuuka asked, eyes darting to his ankle. “I’m so sorry, I promise he’s trained—”

“It’s okay.” He replied, dusting himself off. And then he noticed something.

The dog had bright red eyes.

He stared hard. “It’s an albino?”

“Yeah,” Junpei affirmed. “An albino shiba inu. His name’s Koromaru.”

Koromaru panted happily in acknowledgement.

There was a noise from farther inside the dorm. Makoto looked up, surprised to see a boy descending the stairs. “You guys brought a friend home?”

Yukari scoffed. Fuuka made a small noise. “Um, sort of? Amada-kun, this is Yuki Makoto-kun. H-He’s a classmate of ours.”

“And he knows where Aigis is.” Yukari cut in, tone sharp as a knife. Amada’s eyes widened, and he all but tripped down the rest of the stairs in his haste.

“You’ve seen Aigis-san?!”

Makoto, however, was lagging behind in the conversation. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the dorm allowed pets, much less albino dogs with a tendency to send visitors flying to the floor. But an elementary schooler, too? What about the dorm manager? The supervisors?

“Uh…” Truly eloquent.

* * *

After the initial excitement, formal introductions were made, and Makoto was sitting awkwardly on the sofa, sandwiched between Junpei and Ken, Koromaru at his feet and the girls on the couch opposite staring intently at him.

“Now, will you finally answer us?” Yukari asked, manicured nails tapping expectantly on her knee. Makoto couldn’t lie—it was quite intimidating.

But he was here for a reason. “Not until you tell me what happened.”

“Ugh, this again?” She spat, scowl growing deeper. Makoto matched her gaze. “Fine. But why do you want to know?”

“The Gekkoukan Curse.” The words had hardly left his mouth before she was rolling her eyes. “If it truly targets transfer students, that means I’m next on the list. So I’d like to know what happened to her.” He paused, unsure if he should voice his next thought. “As well as what happened to Arisato-san and Mochizuki-kun.”

He could’ve sworn the temperature dipped noticeably. He suppressed a shiver.

Surprisingly, it was Fuuka who spoke next. “Where did you hear those names?”

Makoto shrugged. “The rumor mill.”

“The curse isn’t real.” Yukari said. “There’s nothing to know.”

“The curse might not exist, but something happened to those three transfer students.” He sighed. He hated confrontation, and his throat was oddly tight. He never spoke this much. “At least tell me about Arisato-san.”

“Why?!” Yukari surged to her feet, murderous. “Why the hell do you want to know about her?! Who the hell do you think you are?!”

“Takeba-san!” Ken exclaimed, rising as well. Koromaru leapt onto the couch and into Makoto’s lap, ears up and eyes on Yukari. They all stared.

Junpei held his face in his hands and groaned. “Why isn’t anything making any fucking sense?”

* * *

“Aigis and Minako-chan were…very close.” Fuuka began. “After what happened on graduation day, Aigis…she took it the hardest. We couldn’t get her to leave the dorm, and when the new school year started, she just…refused to come out of her room. Yesterday, she disappeared. She didn’t leave a note or anything.” Fuuka scrubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, voice rough and scratchy. “We looked all over for her, but we—”

“Last night.” All eyes were suddenly on him. “I ran into her in front of the school. She helped me back to the boys’ dorm after I hurt my ankle.” He attempted a small smile. “She was fine.”

“Oh, thank god…” Yukari sighed, melting into the couch.

Fuuka cleared her throat. “What time, exactly?”

He tensed up unconsciously. “My phone was dead, I’m not sure.”

“Was it around midnight?”

Shit. Did they know something? Fuuka was a lot more shrewd than she let on. “Why would I be out by the school at midnight?” Better to keep his cards close for now.

“How did you hurt your ankle?”

“I fell pretty hard.”

She was clearly growing frustrated with his responses. He bit back the urge to smirk.

Junpei chose that moment to jump in. “Why do you wanna know about Minacchi?”

Well, if that wasn’t the question of the day he didn’t know what was. How could he handle this delicately? “I…knew her. When we were young. Before I moved.”

“You used to live here?”

“You _knew_ her?”

The questions were asked simultaneously, so he elected to respond to neither. “Since when did she start wearing colored contacts?”

“She said it was natural,” Junpei mumbled.

Makoto raised an eyebrow. “Her eyes were brown.” He paused. “ _Are_.” Damn. He needed to stop referring to her in the past tense.

Luckily, they glossed over his little slip up. Which implied she was alive. Hopefully.

“How did you know her?” Yukari probed.

“Family friend.” Ha. He had a sense of humor after all.

They seemed unconvinced. Makoto bit the inside of his cheek before reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

And out from it he pulled an old photo.

The only photo he had left of her.

A six-year-old Minako smiled widely at the camera, arms wrapped around the neck of a significantly more subdued Makoto. The background was an old shrine that he couldn’t remember the name of—he should probably look for it when he got the chance.

Their gazes were a mix of surprise and nostalgia. “Holy shit. Her eyes _were_ brown.” Junpei breathed.

“That was probably before the incident, then—” Fuuka stopped short when she realized what she’d just said.

Makoto nearly dropped the photo in shock. They knew about it? Minako told them?

Wait, what exactly was she implying?

He pushed these questions aside for the time being. _Focus_. “Well, there’s your proof. Will you tell me now?”

Silence fell over the group. Even Koromaru, whom had become little more than a warm weight on his lap, whimpered and lowered his head.

Obviously, this meant she was doing _fantastic_. “Please just tell me she’s not dead.”

“She’s not.” Fuuka admitted. Makoto relaxed a smidge. “Not y-yet.”

“Hell.”


End file.
